


The Things I Should Have Said

by Gaywardson42



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Dean Winchester Comes Out, Heaven, Heaven (supernatural), M/M, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 15, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaywardson42/pseuds/Gaywardson42
Summary: Dean is in Heaven with his car, his brother, his family - not to mention all the alcohol he can consume with none of the consequences. He should be happy, but every time he closes his eyes, he just sees that face, that smile... those eyes. And he can't stop looking up at the sky. It's just so blue. How can any Heaven be perfect when his angel isn't a part of it?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

“Have you seen Dean?” Sam Winchester glanced over his shoulder, beer in hand, as he descended the staircase onto the main floor of Bobby’s house – or rather, the heavenly replica of Bobby’s house that sat right next door to Harvelle’s. This entire segment of Heaven carried the thick scent of whiskey and old wood; to the Winchester boys, it smelled like home.

Bobby looked up from his book as Sam took the seat opposite him. Half of the older man’s lips curled upward into an almost-smile as he closed his book and shrugged. “Out driving,” he sighed before downing a shot of whiskey. “Like he always is.”

Sam smiled at the table. “Yeah, I figured.” His eyes darted up to the old man and then down again. “You know, how is it that, in Heaven, you’re still an alcoholic?” Sam smiled.

“Just because it kills ya don’t mean it ain’t medicine,” Bobby shot back before shrugging and taking another swig. “And up here, I’m already dead.”

“Yeah, you got a point there.” Sam was laughing, but his eyes were still fixed on the door, and it didn’t take a genius to know that Sam’s mind was far away, in that damn car with his brother.

Bobby nodded, squinting slightly. Then he looked up at Sam. “Dean’s gonna be fine. He always bounces back, don’t he?”

Sam turned quickly back to Bobby, his eyes more restless than before. “Not really, Bobby. I mean in all his time on Earth, have you ever seen Dean _happy_? Like, _really_ , _happy_?” Bobby opened his mouth, but Sam didn’t give him a chance to respond. “I just thought that, you know… in Heaven, maybe he would finally….” Sam exhaled, his eyes darting back and forth.

“I know, kid.” Bobby offered a warm, paternal smile as Sam’s eyes finally met his. “I thought so, too.”

For a moment, the two hunters sat in their silence, both quietly caring about Dean Winchester. Their stares subconsciously lingered on the door, as though Dean might have been just standing behind it, waiting for them to finish their conversation so that he could quietly enter the house without drawing the attention of people who might pull him into uncomfortable conversation. Still, they both logically knew that, wherever he was - wherever he'd taken his car during _this_ drive - Dean was far away.

The two hunters sat in their damn silence, staring forward and knowing that.

“He still misses him, Bobby,” Sam almost-whispered in a way that somehow broke the silence between them while also thickening it further.

“I know he does.” Bobby breathed. “But all we can really do is be here for him when he needs us.”

Sam breathed a laugh, standing suddenly to face the door. For a moment, his chest puffed and his eyes went wild, but Sam didn’t yell. Instead, his eyes went dark and his voice went low. “Yeah, well there’s someone else who should be here for him, too.”

Bobby’s mouth twisted, but he said nothing.

“I mean, he rebuilt Heaven, apparently, so why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to, like, _show up_?”

Bobby considered arguing on Castiel’s behalf, but he couldn’t. Sam was right, after all. Bobby just nodded. “I know, kid. I know.”

* * *

_Bada badump badumpum_

_bada badump badum_

The flats of Dean Winchester’s hands drummed out the opening notes to Led Zeppelin’s “Fool in the Rain” on the wheel of the impala, his head banging with every beat. His lips were tightly pursed as he examined the mountain range outside the open left window of the car. Massive castles of rock rippled over one another like frozen grey waterfalls, each one painted with every shade of green that seemed to welcome the gentle blue sky.

“Cas really outdid himself,” the hunter muttered, beaming as he pictured Cas focusing as he sculpted each stone, making the cute focused-Cas face he always made where his eyebrows got all scrunchy and his blue eyes got all intense. A soft chuckle escaped Dean’s lungs as he thought about the angel.

Then again, he probably didn’t look like Cas anymore, did he? He’d probably gone back to being a “celestial wavelength of intent” or “interdimensional cosmic… something” or whatever the fuck it was he called himself. The other Cas – _Dean’s_ Cas – was gone, and, unlike a lot of the other people that Dean had lost, he wasn’t gonna be running into him around heaven. Dean wasn’t smiling anymore, and his hand-drumming had become softer than it was.

_Well there’s a light in your eye that keeps shining,_

_Like a star that can’t wait for the night,_

_I hate to think I been blinded baby,_

_Why can’t I see you tonight?_

Dean looked back up at the sky, a shade of blue all too familiar. Sometimes he would try to picture the blue of Cas’ eyes, but happy memories would flicker and fall, and the world would dissolve into that last moment they shared together. Dean could never understand how such a terrible memory could involve such happy eyes; a smile so pure and a joy so true. It made everything a million times worse.

_And the warmth of your smile starts a burning_

_And the thrill of your touch give me fright_

It pissed him off sometimes – it really did – if Cas could fucking rebuild Heaven, then why couldn’t he just fucking drop in for two damn seconds, just so he could hear his voice one more time; just so that terrible memory wouldn’t be the only thing he could picture –

_I’m shaking so much, really yearning,_

_Why don’t you show up and make it alright?_

– just to have a chance to hold him again.

_It’s alright…._

Sometimes Dean would wonder just how long it had been since that night. Like Bobby had told him when he’d first arrived in Heaven, time was different up here. Still, he knew it had to have been a real damn long time if Sammy had been able to live an entire life since Dean’s own death – and that was coming up five years on the tail of Cas’ sacrifice.

However long it was, Cas’ words still rang fresh in Dean’s mind. They played on repeat, crystal clear, and sometimes they were easier to drown out than other times, but they were always there. His mind would sometimes try to respond, a fruitless prayer to make up for the fact that Cas’ final memory of Dean was just him standing there staring. Helpless.

The hunter was never sure whether driving around Heaven all the time was a way of coping or torturing himself – though, for Dean, these two actions were often one and the same. Without even meaning to, Dean spent these hours searching every inch of Heaven for some item or some design where he could find his angel; as if some freaking rock somewhere was just gonna be _so very Cas_ that it would take away all of the pain he was feeling. And he hated himself for it – for being such a fucking dumbass – but every corner that he turned, Dean hoped with every fiber of his being that Cas would be standing there waiting for him. Maybe then, he would _finally_ get to tell him….

Dean turned up the music.

_And the clock on the wall’s moving slower,_

_Oh my heart, it sinks to the ground,_

_And the storm that I thought would blow over_

_Clouds the light of the love that I found…._

_Light of the love that I found_.


	2. Chapter 2

Day and night were different in Heaven than they were on Earth in that they weren’t mutually exclusive. The sky could be bright as the hottest day of summer for one house and as dark as the middle of night right next door. Heaven, after all, didn’t have a need to abide by the same rules that Earth did; there was no planetary rotation to dictate these things. Mostly, day and night came based on the comfort and internal clocks of whoever it was that inhabited a particular area. Some parts of Heaven had no night at all, but over Bobby’s house and over Harvelle’s and over the bunker and the boys’ first home in Kansas and the home Sammy’d grown old in, this was not so. They’d figured, after all, that the sky needs to be a little dark sometimes or else you won’t notice when it isn’t.

There was a bunker in Heaven, but it felt empty there without any of the people who had inhabited it over the years – without Sam, for a while, and without the kid. Without Cas.

For that reason, Dean typically elected to sleep at Bobby’s. The upstairs of his heavenly-house had been altered to include a guest room that, every night, took the form of a different cheap motel room – crappy mattresses and eclectic patterns and all. Dean had chuckled the first time he’d walked into this room. “Nice touch, Cas,” he’d muttered, aiming his eyes vaguely into the sky outside his window.

Sam often spent his nights at the house he’d bought with Eileen – the house where he’d raised his son – but, other times, he’d stick around to make fun of how Dean still slept with a gun under his pillow. ( _Dean_ didn’t even really know why he did that.)

Sam had been spending the night at Bobby’s more frequently recently, and Dean didn’t need to wonder why; it was made more and more painfully obvious with every signature Sam Winchester puppy eyes face and every “How have you been, Dean?”

It was unbearable.

Dean hated when people were worried about him – especially when they didn’t even have anything to be worried about.

* * *

By the time Dean parked Baby out front of Bobby’s place, the blueness of the sky had faded to a tint over a sea of raven. He stepped out of Baby and began the walk to Bobby’s door, gazing absently at the star patterns above him as though he was looking for something that he couldn’t quite place.

After passing the threshold of the house, Dean instinctively wandered into the kitchen for a beer. The house was quiet, and so he tried to be quiet, too – Bobby didn’t sleep that well in life, so, nowadays, he had a tendency to get real grumpy if awoken too suddenly.

Dean made his way into what he assumed would be an empty kitchen. Instead, he found his little brother and surrogate father sitting at a table and staring at him with wide, concerned eyes.

Dean took a step back, doing a double taking at the vaguely alarming sight. “Well there is a weird-ass energy in here,” he remarked, chuckling at the ground. “I’m just gonna,” Dean pointed at the stash of beer, “and then you crazy kids can get back to this ‘Awkward Nerds Anonymous’ meeting you got goin’ on.”

Neither of the men sitting in front of him laughed – if anything, Sam’s pursed lips curved further down at the edges and his furrowed eyebrows fell more deeply into a painfully condescending slant.

Bobby’s face didn’t change much, but his left leg shifted uncomfortably. “Dean, we wanna talk to you about somethin’.”

Dean felt his head recoil as his mouth fell slightly open. “Not you, too, Bobby,” he groaned. He let out an exhale that mimicked a laugh and shook his head at the ceiling. “I already gotta deal with Sasquatch over here trying to freakin therapize me,” Dean pointed at his brother. “I don’t need you hoppin’ on the bandwagon.”

“And usually, I would fully respect that,” Bobby began, his voice notably more severe than before, “but son, I’m worried about you.”

Dean reluctantly met Bobby’s eyes, letting the older hunter’s desperate glare burn into him. His heart pounded uncomfortably below his ribcage, waking up a swarm of butterflies in his stomach – no, not butterflies… wasps or… or bees?

_Bees._

_Dean looked out the window into the night sky above – millions upon millions of tiny, far-away lights, like a billion bumblebees soaring over his slice of Heaven – and behind them, hiding under a veil of black and the absence of sunshine,_ blue _– a beautiful ocean of –_

“Dean!” Bobby was standing up now. “Dean, are you listening to me?”

Dean couldn’t tell whether it was anger or fear in Bobby’s voice; hell, maybe Bobby couldn’t tell, either.

It didn’t matter anyway. All of the defensiveness he was feeling mere moments ago was gone, and with it, his ability to argue. Dean returned his gaze to Bobby, his face blank save for a subtle downward tilt at the ends of his eyebrows. He swallowed. “Look, I don’t really wanna talk about it,” Dean’s managed, his voice quieter now, free of its usual gruff nature.

“So there _is_ something to talk about then?” Sam ventured, cautiously joining him and Bobby by the doorway. “You admit that things aren’t… okay?”

Dean looked at the floor, feeling his heart pound heavily and trying hard not to let its tambor reflect in his voice. His eyes ricocheted between the floor and his brother and the floor again before he nodded slowly, letting a small, tired smile flicker onto his face. He met his brother’s eyes one last time to half-whisper, “I don’t know, Sammy. Maybe I’m not. But I ain’t gonna talk about it.”

Dean walked out and up to his room upstairs, no beer in hand. Then he laid down, closed his eyes, and prayed he wouldn’t dream.

* * *

_Dean stood in the center of a granite road, the grass-covered mountain inclining sharply upward on his right and down on his left; he recognized this as the same road where he’d been driving earlier that evening – or that previous day? Maybe? It was light out now, but he hadn’t remembered…._

_“Dean.”_

_A familiar, gravelly voice called from behind him, causing his heart to fly up into his throat, pulling his body into an awkward turn through sheer momentum – but then there he was. For who knows how many years, this angel had been all his mind would let him think about, and now here he was… just fifteen feet away from him._

_“Cas…” Dean mustered, his eyes not moving from the figure before him – not blinking for fear that all of this would go away._

_Dean was smiling like he’d been slammed with a freaking love curse – he’d been so mesmerized by Castiel’s features – each one just as unique and beautiful as he’d remembered – that, until now, he’d forgotten to move._

_Dean took a step in Cas’ direction, his very being absorbed in the utter euphoria that flowed through him, but, when his foot touched the ground, the world flickered. Suddenly, they were in a dark room – the dungeon at the bunker – and a sense of urgency weighed down Dean’s stomach. Cas’ tan trench coat became marked with dirt, and blood dripped from his hand. There was banging at the door, but Cas was just smiling – why was he –_

_And then the world was right again. The blue sky was back, the mountains had reemerged, and that moment from the bunker was, once again, just a bad memory. Still, Dean hesitated, and his goofy grin had been replaced by helpless eyes and lips parted in confusion._

_“Dean, what’s wrong?” Castiel inquired, cocking his head to a 45° angle._

_“I don’t…” Dean began, taking another step._

_Again, the world flickered into that day at the bunker, everything around him changing except for the location of the angel._

_When the vision has once again dissipated, Dean turned desperately to the figure in front of him. “Cas what’s happening?” he pleaded. He was scared by the voice coming out of his mouth; he sounded so much more afraid than he’d thought he was, as if each sound he made concealed a scream that was trying so desperately to pound its way out through his throat and making his words sound scratchy and strained._

_Cas didn’t answer him._

_He was running now, and though it only took him a few steps to reach Cas, each time one of his feet made contact with the ground, the environment changed. When he’d reached Cas, the sky was blue and the hills were green and Dean clawed his hands into his trench coat, grimace highlighting the fear in his eyes. “Cas! What’s happening?! Why is this…why-” The hunter was hyperventilating._

_Still, Cas didn’t respond; instead, his face melted into an expression of confused curiosity – the "brow-furrowed, lips-parted" duo that Dean recognized from that very first time they met in the barn – “_ What’s the matter” _Cas had said._ “You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

_Cas’ eyebrows twitched slightly as he looked slowly down at his feet._

_Dean followed his gaze, and every one of his organs became heavy inside him when he saw a black, inky mass lapping its way up Cas’ legs._

_“No -no! No!” Dean screamed, his eyes stinging. “Not again!”_

_Cas cocked his head at the hunter, furrowing his brows in confusion._

_“Cas! You can’t go now! There’s so much I need to say to you –”_

_“But you didn’t.”_

_Dean looked up into those piercing blue eyes. “What? What are you –”_

_“You didn’t say anything Dean,” Cas continued. “You just stood there.”_

_Dean was silent for a moment, his hand falling back to his side. That black fluid was moving rapidly now – it had made its way up most of the angel’s torso. Dean reached out to place his hand on the angel’s cheek. “I- ”_

_But it was too late. Blackness slicked its way up the angel, tossing Dean’s hand away with force that threw him onto his back. Then, with all but a quarter of his face consumed by the empty, Cas’ one uncovered eye went wide with terror. The hole where his mouth should have been formed the shape of a scream like a bubble in a pool of tar, and even though he couldn’t make any noise, the hunter knew what he was screaming._

_“DEAN!”_

_Dean couldn’t move._

_“DEAN!”_

_He stared helplessly, pleading with his angel to come back to him –_

_“DEAN!”_

_His entire body was covered now._

_“DEAN! DEAN!”_

“Dean!” Sam Winchester sat on the double bed next to Dean’s. “Wake up, man!”

Dean jolted awake. “Sammy?” he managed, rubbing a hand over his eyes and sitting up to face his brother.

“Dude, what were you dreaming about? You were shaking like crazy.” Sam’s eyebrows were scrunched up in concern. When Dean didn’t respond, he squinted his eyes a little bit. “Hey, are you _crying_?”

“No,” Dean said instinctually, not caring if it was true. He didn’t look at his brother; he knew why he was here, but he asked anyway. “There a reason you decided to wake me up?”

Sam sighed. “We need to talk about –”

“Please don’t say his name,” Dean threw up a hand.

Sam nodded sympathetically, concern still ruling over his eyebrows. Then he breathed, and stated “I’m sorry, Dean, but we need to talk about Cas sometime –“

“I said not to say his name!” Dean yelled, standing up and turning away from his brother. He knit his hands together behind his head and stared at the floor. Then, more calmly, “I asked you not to say his name.”

Sam stared down at his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Silence sat heavily between the brothers for what felt like hours. They were so still that, if it weren’t for the exaggerated rise and fall of Dean’s shoulders, the scene could have been mistaken for a photograph. Sam sat at the foot of the bed closest to the door, hunched over save for his head which tilted to the left and allowed his eyes to lock onto his brother. Sam sat solid and determined, his anxiety given away only by his half-pursed lips and subtly twitching eyebrows; still, this was enough to prevent Dean from facing him. Instead, he stood with his back to Sam and his eyes shut tightly at the ground for good measure. His fingers were locked together behind his head.

It was dark, and there was no light in the room aside from the dim aura of a cheap-looking yellow floor lamp and the faint glow of the moon through the window.

Sam sighed deeply, indicating that he was going to break the silence, and Dean twitched at the sound. To stop his brother from saying whatever kind of touchy-feely crap he was going to say, Dean finally turned around and spoke first. “Look man,” he began, his left hand at his side and his right gesturing at nothing particular at waist level, “I get that you’re trying to help – I do – but your _pity_?” Dean spat the word out like poison. “I don’t want your freakin _pity_.”

“It’s not pity, Dean,” Sam defended, but Dean just scoffed and shook his head, an incredulous smile spreading on his face. “I can just see you’re suffering, man, and I wanna help you.”

Dean’s ingenuine grin fell abruptly. “Yeah, and how’re you gonna do that, huh?” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Dean didn’t give him a chance. “We gonna weave some friendship bracelets? Maybe scare away this fucking _grief_ that I’m feeling with the power of hugs and sunshine?” Dean glared into Sam for a moment before turning again to face the window. His right hand met his forehead as he took a few steps away. Sam sat silently, unsure of what he could possibly say that might help his brother to open up.

When Dean turned around again after a moment, Sam could see that some of the venom had drained from his eyes. He leaned back against the window sill which, strangely, was the exact correct height to support him. He stared at the wall.

Sam nodded finally, working to keep his heart rate from making his voice waver. “Look, I know you don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff –”

“Yeah, I really _don’t_.”

“But it can help,” Sam continued, ignoring his brother’s interruption.

Another silence fell between them before Sam said in a lower, quieter voice, “You never even really told me what happened that day. I mean other than that he…” Sam began before trailing off and shaking his head.

Dean’s stubbornness fell for just a moment as his eyebrows furrowed at the man on the bed. Everything Sam had said up until this point just sounded sad or worried, but this? There was almost an element of anger in his voice – just a tiny hint of bitterness beneath his words.

Sam looked up at his brother’s eyes for a moment before his gaze flickered to the ground. As if reading Dean’s mind, he continued in that same dark tone, “He was my friend, too… and I don’t even know how he…” Sam paused, shaking his head. His left eye captured the reflection of the moonlight before he blinked the stinging sensation away. “How he died.” Sam’s voice fell almost to silence during the last word.

Dean nodded slightly, pursing his lips as he processed the new tone of the discussion. His face stayed pensive as a pang of guilt struck him in the stomach. He’d been so absorbed in his own shit all this time that he hadn’t even considered Sam’s place in all this. “I’m sorry,” he said walking over to sit on the foot of the empty bed. “Sammy, I’m sorry. I didn’t even…” Dean didn’t know how to finish his sentence, but the sentiment was there, nonetheless.

Sam lifted his face up from his hands, wiping two tears away before answering. “I never wanted to… you know, force you to talk about it, but…” Sam breathed. “Yeah, it sucks sometimes.”

Both brothers now sat with their elbows on their knees, adjusting to the turn the conversation had taken.

“Maybe it’s better not knowing,” Dean said to the ground.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam tried to concede, his breath still coming out heavier than he wanted it to.

Then Dean made a decision. He shook his head at the floor one last time, taking in a final pause before launching into something he knew he could never come back from. “He died a hero.”

Sam looked up, surprised, but he said nothing.

Dean continued, “He died to save the world.” Then he shrugged, chuckling slightly into his hands. “Well – to save _me_ , really.”

Sam was still silent when Dean looked up, but he nodded, indicating that he should continue.

“Cas had made a deal,” Dean sighed, looking back to his hands, knotted tightly together between his legs.

“Wait – he made a deal?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed gravely. “Back when the kid died – well, when he died for the _first_ time. He made a deal with the Empty.”

Sam nodded, focusing his eyes into the ground. “So what? A year? Two?”

“Neither,” Dean continued. “Deal was that, whenever he had a moment of pure happiness, he – well…”

“The Empty would come and take him.” Sam finished, his voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah.” Dean looked to his right and saw that his brother was now staring at him intently, his nostrils flaring and his breath shaky. Dean knew he was getting to the part that would change everything, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the pounding in his _own_ chest, the anxiety that seemed to be creeping its way farther up his spinal cord with each passing moment. “Anyway, the day it happened, Billie was after us. Cas knew that –… he knew…” Dean’s head fell suddenly into his hands as the dam he’d been working so hard to hold in front of the memory finally burst.

Sam felt his stomach wince at the sounds coming out of his brother; his eyes were tightly shut and dripping, his clenched teeth showing through his pained grimace, and the sobs coming out of him were raw; it was like they weren’t even coming from his vocal cords – just escaping , scraping their way out of him. “Dean, you don’t need to –”

“No, Sammy,” Dean managed, wiping his tears with his right hand and breathing away the sobbing as he stood and walked back over to the window. “Just-just let me finish, okay?” he croaked, turning back to his brother.

Sam nodded.

“Cas knew that the Empty was the only thing left that could stop Billie before… Before she got me, so…” Dean winced. “So he summoned the Empty, and she took Billie… and…”

“And she took Cas,” Sam finished, looking up at his brother. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been to… to have to watch him go out like that –”

“You didn’t see his face, Sammy.” Dean looked at Sam, his eyes wide with terror, the memory clearly playing in front of him. “Sammy… that _smile_ , it was –”

“ _Smile?”_

“Happiest I ever seen him,” Dean confirmed. “And now that face – that _joy_ – while that _nothingness_ absorbed him is _all_ I can _fucking see_ when I close my eyes, Sammy.” There were tears rolling freely down Dean’s cheeks now, and his voice was rough and haunted. “Every fuckin’ time.”

Sam still sat, looking at his brother, his eyes staring into him, searching for a way that he could help him. He opened his mouth to say – _something_ – but Dean spoke again before he could.

“And this guilt,” Dean growled, his hand forming a claw shape in front of his stomach. “This feeling that I have _all the time_ ….” He shook his head at the ground before exhaling and looking back to his brother. “I think it’s eating me alive, Sammy,” he finished, hands flying helplessly to his sides, voice higher pitched like he was underwater and trying to get air.

Sam’s eyebrows came together. “Dean, you have no reason to feel guilty for that. I mean Cas _wanted_ to save you. It was his choice.”

Dean breathed a joyless laugh and shook his head. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the whole thing.”

“Then tell me,” Sam said without hesitation.

Dean flinched, his heart practically vibrating inside him. “The only way Cas could summon the Empty was by feeling pure happiness.”

“You said that. So… how did he do it?”

Dean breathed again, his head tilted upward but his watery eyes focusing down on his brother. Only a few moments passed before Dean told him, but it felt like forever to Dean – each excruciating moment spreading a numbness throughout him, detaching from reality until “He told me he loved me.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “Wait – Cas told you that he –”

“And I love him, too, Sammy.” Both men froze. “God help me, I love him and I should have said that but I just –”

Dean was cut off by two massive arms pulling him into a hug. He flinched at the suddenness of the gesture before slowly positioning his own arms over Sam’s.

“Well dammit, Sammy,” Dean laughed quietly after a moment. “What’s this about?”

Sam shrugged. “Just felt like you could use a hug.”

Dean might have recoiled at the show of emotion in a different situation, but he just smiled. “Hugging ain’t usually our thing,” he continued.

“Yeah, well,” Sam said, pulling away. “That just felt like a big deal,” Sam gestured between them, as though Dean’s confession was some invisible object levitating right there in the air.

Dean rolled his eyes, failing to hide a tiny grin. “Dude, come on. You’re makin’ it awkward.”

Sam laughed. “I’m just trying to be supportive,” he defended. “I mean – you just came out to me, what was I _supposed_ to do?”

Dean’s face turned incredulous, and his tone matched as he responded, “I didn’t _come out_ to you.”

“Oh really,” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Then what would you call that?”

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Sam laughed as he shut it again in defeat.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” he began, his tone more genuine. “Only took you _dying_ to finally get up the courage to tell me you’re – what, _bisexual? Pansexual?”_

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, though,” Sam said, patting Dean on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you… Jerk.”

Dean smirked up at him. “Bitch.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Dean woke up the next morning, it was already light out; it was the first good night of sleep he’d gotten in a very long time. Looking out the window and noticing this fact, he yawned and rolled his shoulders backward. He looked up at the blue sky and, suddenly, the events of the night before came flooding back to him. A subtle tinge of discomfort struck him in the lining of his stomach as he remembered what he’d confessed to his brother, but he smiled nonetheless. The weight of his grief still sat heavily on his chest, but, Dean noticed, it was a little bit lighter than it was yesterday. And maybe tomorrow it would be lighter still.

Dean sighed out a yawn as he sat up and looked to the bed adjacent to his; Sam was already gone. Dean let out a chuckle and rolled his eyes; Sammy couldn’t sleep in to save his life – not even now that he was dead.

Pulling himself up and settling his feet on the brown carpet, Dean did his best to swallow down some of the apprehension he noticed rising in his chest. After all, his brother had been incredibly supportive, and, logically, he knew nothing was going to change. Still, something felt different, and Dean couldn’t quite tell if it was good-different or the kind of different that was going to sit uncomfortably in the air during every one of his interactions for the time being. Then again, it could’ve been both; it was difficult to balance the relief that came with coming out to his brother with the sort of burning sensation in his gut that asked, “ _What if nothing is ever the same?_ ”

Still, Dean cleaned himself up and got dressed, same as he always did. Then he took a deep breath as he walked down the stairs.

* * *

Bobby’s place was typically pretty quiet in the mornings – and usually stayed quiet throughout the rest of the day – but, this morning, as Dean turned the corner to get to the main area of the house, he heard sounds of conversation and laughter coming from the doorway. Dean’s brow furrowed as Sam entered the hallway to greet him.

“Mornin’, Sammy,” Dean nodded, trying to make sure his voice and facial expression reflected the degree to which he was _not_ thinking about the conversation they’d had last night.

“Morning, Dean,” Sam breathed quickly, walking toward him. “Okay – _don’t_ kill me,” he continued, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Uh… why… would I –” Dean began before he leaned past his brother to peer through the doorway and quickly recoiled at what he saw.

Bobby sat on the right-most side of the couch and Ellen Harvelle sat on his immediate left. The two of them were looking to the other side of the couch at Kevin Tran (admitted into Heaven after Jack became God) who appeared to be telling a delightfully captivating story. Across from them, Charlie sat on the coffee table with her elbows on her knees. Jo Harvelle leaned against the wall near where Kevin was sitting, turning her knife over in her hand. And standing in the middle of the room facing all of them stood Jodie Mills and Donna Hanscum – who, it should be noted, both lived full lives before arriving in Heaven just a little while before Sam had. Basically, it was the whole crew – or a lot of them, at least.

Dean’s eyes were wide and panicked and voice came out whispered and angry, both of these actions being accurate depictions of his current emotional state. “The fuck is that?!” Dean hissed, pointing through the door with his thumb. “Did you throw me a freaking _coming out party_?!”

“Nononononono,” Sam whispered urgently.

“Did you tell them?” Dean muttered bitterly.

“No, of course I didn’t,” Sam continued quickly, the hint of a smile spreading on his face. “I didn’t even bring them here, Dean!”

Dean drew back slightly, narrowing his eyes. “The hell are you talking about, Sammy?”

Sam opened his mouth to explain, but someone else spoke first.

“Thought I heard you two yahoos bickering out here,” said Ellen Harvelle, who was now standing in the doorway. Dean glanced over to find that the entire room was now staring at them. “Now get on in here, would ya?”

Following Sam and Ellen, Dean wandered cautiously into Bobby’s living room, his eyes dancing across the faces in front of him, looking for some type of clue as to why they were all here. “Is this some kind of intervention or somethin’?” Dean laughed nervously. He turned to Sam and twitched his eyebrows while widening his eyes, as if to say, _what the hell, Sammy_?

One of Sam’s eyebrows moved upward while the side of his mouth curved into a smile: _Just go with it, man! Everything’s fine._

Dean nodded slightly.

“Guess you’re probably wondering what the hell’s going on,” inserted Charlie.

Dean laughed out of the side of his mouth. “That’d be a fair assumption.”

She smiled. “Old friend of yours sent out the bat signal.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “Old friend of…” his throat fell into his stomach and time stopped. He turned quickly to Sam, who was nodding at him with about the biggest smile he’d ever seen; kid almost looked like he was about to cry. When Dean turned to the rest of the room, he found that the everyone else’s faces hosted similar expressions. His insides twisted, trying to stop him from believing what he was beginning to understand. His heart pounded out of fear that it wasn’t true, but also out of something lighter. His skin felt numb in the best way possible.

“I think you should go outside, son,” said Bobby slowly, his face about as giddy as Bobby Singer’s face had the capacity to be.

Dean nodded slowly, his mouth now open and his breathing growing heavy under all of the things he was feeling. He turned to Sam and felt something twitch behind his eye.

“Go get him, man,” Sam smiled, stepping sideways to clear Dean’s path.

Dean breathed a laugh out of the side of his awed smile as he walked to the door, turned the knob, and stepped out.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s head whipped to the source of the voice.

And there he was: trench coat and all.

“Cas?” Dean heard himself say as he ran toward the angel and pulled him into a tight embrace, his arms bound tightly over his shoulders. When he felt two hands respond by wrapping around his waist, he felt his eyes sting, but he didn’t care. “It’s good to see you, man,” he breathed into Cas’ shoulder.

One of Cas’ hands lightly patted the small of Dean’s back. “You too, Dean.”

Several moments passed, but neither one of them let go; they just held each other and let everything else melt away. For a moment, nothing else in heaven or on Earth mattered.

Then Dean felt himself pause as his heart gained momentum. His body tried to tense up, but he stowed away his apprehension and allowed his right hand to find the angel’s cheek. His head raised up from his shoulder as he looked into Castiel’s eyes and smiled deeply. For the first time in what felt like forever, Cas was _here_. He wasn’t just a face in his mind – he was the person that Dean was holding – the person whose cheek felt so warm in Dean’s palm.

Cas released a short breath as his mouth opened into pure bliss and tears filled his eyes.

Dean matched his expression. “Cas, I…”

“I know, Dean.”

“Yeah but just let me say it anyway,” Dean nodded quickly, never letting his gaze leave Castiel’s eyes. He felt his eyelashes flicker as the edges of his vision blurred. A shallow laugh escaped his lungs. “Dammit, Cas, you got me cryin’ now.”

Cas laughed, causing his nose to scrunch up and a few tears to fall.

“Castiel,” Dean swallowed, feeling the whole world in his lungs. “Cas, I love you.”

Both men smiled as Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips firmly together. The hesitation that had been holding itself in Dean’s chest drained away, and the butterflies in his stomach became warm and wonderful, soaring upward and sitting so comfortably in the center of his chest. His right hand moved from Cas’ cheek so that he was cupping the side of the angel’s head and running the tips of his fingers through his hair.

When their lips at last parted, their foreheads met, and they just stood there, smiling with their eyes closed. Cas’ presence in Dean’s arms was something he’d dreamt about every night for… who knows how long. And here he was.

Finally, Cas spoke: “Dean, do you want me to explain how I…” he began to ask, but Dean shushed him.

“In a minute, Cas,” he smiled, not bothering to open his eyes. “Just… just let me hold you.”

Cas relaxed into the hunter’s arms. “Okay, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean and Cas stood facing each other out front of Bobby’s house, the tips of their fingers intertwined and facing downward as their palms met just below their waists. Both men stared dreamily into the other’s eyes – a sight that may admittedly have caused Dean Winchester to cringe had he been looking on from the outside. But he didn’t cringe, because he wasn’t on the outside; he was _here_ , and Cas was _here_ , and no amount of self-consciousness was going to take that away.

Dean chuckled softly, his smile widening and his eyebrows fluttering slightly. Cas looked up at him inquisitively, and, taking the look as a question, Dean beamed, “I just never thought this was gonna happen. I can’t believe it’s real.” He shook his head and pursed his lips, allowing his eyes to fall to the gravel below their feet before looking back to the man in front of him. “I just… I been wanting this for such a long time,” he mused, his eyebrows raising slightly, seeming to soften his features.

Cas’ expression fell slightly, and, as he glanced to the left before once again meeting the hunter’s eyes, a subtle shift in his eyebrows had changed their meaning from glee to something bleaker. Dean immediately recognized the face of guilt – a look he was all too used to seeing when he looked in the mirror. Dean readjusted to tighten his hold on Cas’ hands, turning them to fit more comfortably in his. Somehow, the sensation spread, and Dean felt his own smile falter as he felt that familiar burn trampoline between his stomach and chest.

“What’s wrong, Cas?” he asked somewhat reluctantly.

The angel’s eyes deepened. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“No,” Dean said simply, recoiling slightly at the outlandish apology he’d just received. “Cas – no,” he elaborated, “ _I’m_ sorry. _I_ was the one that just stood there while you –…” Dean looked down.

Cas moved his hand to Dean’s cheek, forcing him to look back up at him. “I’m sorry for _this_ , Dean,” he went on. “For this grief – this suffering that you’ve undergone.” His hands fell to his sides as he stepped back slowly. “I should have come to you sooner, but… I was selfish. I was a coward,” he confessed to the ground.

Dean’s arms sat frozen for a moment, as if his brain had forgotten to tell them that the angel had stepped away. His mouth was open and his eyes wide, and his left cheekbone was raised slightly, leaving a resultant unevenness in both of the aforementioned features. Then his arms fell suddenly with a quick exhale that threw his head to face the left before rocking back forward. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Cas, you know that?”

Cas’ eyes snapped back to Dean. He squinted slightly, but he said nothing.

“Man, you know the last time I saw you, you literally _died_ – wait, I’m sorry – outed yourself, confessed your love, _and_ died – for _me_ ,” Dean shook his head. “And then you show up here and try to tell me you’re a _coward_?”

Cas’ mouth fell open. “Dean, I –”

“No, Cas,” Dean continued, his right hand gesturing forward just above his waist. “You know, if anybody else had said that about you in front of me,” – his voice began to gain volume – “I’da broken their damn nose.”

Castiel was speechless for a moment as he analyzed Dean’s words and attempted to decide whether they should work to lessen the guilt inside of him or add to it. When he finally spoke, his voice came out quiet. “I was afraid to see you, and I allowed that to justify my sitting idly by while you were in pain.” Then, almost in a whisper, “I didn’t think you would want to see me after… after what I said.”

Dean’s jaw twitched. “And whose fault was it that you felt that way?” Dean snapped, driving his eyes directly into Cas’.

Cas cocked his head to the side.

“Who was it that watched you say what you said that day,” Dean yelled through clenched teeth, his eyes so glossy that it would’ve taken one tiny blink for tears to start pouring, “and let you _die_ without telling you that… that I love you, too, Cas?” Dean’s voice had grown raw, loud, and severe, every word bellowed out through heaving breaths, his torso bent forward toward the angel. “Who let the Empty take you away without getting the _fucking_ balls to tell you that… that, with everything you said…” Dean’s voice fell to a croak, the urgency, though still present, now tinted with something more quiet that couldn’t quite be captured by words. “You changed me, too, Cas. And every damn day, every time I just _close_ my _fuckin eyes_ , I know that I let you down.” Dean’s hands had fallen back to his sides, and his posture had been drained of his aggression around the same time his tone had. “Don’t call yourself a coward, Cas,” he muttered weakly. “Not to me.”

Earsplitting silence sat between them for a time. Dean stood still in the wake of his outburst, using all of his strength to hold his gaze onto his angel’s face. Cas stood still, his lips slightly parted as though trapped in a constant state of preparing to speak. This wasn’t so far from that truth, either; Dean’s words had left Cas searching his mind for the right thing to say, but every sentence that had almost left his lungs came up short.

Cas took a step closer to the hunter before opening his mouth and hoping that whatever words came out would do justice to the things he needed to say.

“Dean, when I made that confession – when I told you I loved you – I didn’t do it so that I could hear you say it back,” he began. “I did it because I knew that the simple act of saying it out loud would be euphoric.” Cas breathed into a smile, showing his teeth for just a second. “And that proved true.”

Dean shook his head at the ground, but was stopped almost immediately when Cas stepped closer to him, grabbed the material on his shirt, and forced Dean to look back into his eyes. “Dean, I need you to know that that wasn’t what mattered,” he pleaded. “So maybe you took a while to tell me your true feelings,” he shrugged, “and I struggled to face you and allow you the opportunity to do so.” He took Dean’s cheek in his hand. “We’re here now.”

Dean let out a sigh that resembled a chuckle as the beginnings of a smile returned to his face. “We’re here now,” he agreed.

Again, the two men pushed their lips together and allowed the magic of the moment to take them. Dean’s hand moved to the back of Cas’ neck as the kiss deepened, brushing his tongue gently against Cas’ as the angel’s mouth opened.

The moment ended only when they heard a gleefully whispered, “Oh my god!,” come from behind them. When the two men turned, they saw Charlie, Kevin, and Sam peeking out the door through a crack, Charlie’s hand clamped over her mouth.

“Sorry!” she stage-whispered.

Dean smirked and rolled his eyes. “What is this, middle school? Could we get some damn privacy please?”

Kevin pushed his way out the door a little further. “For the record, I told them this was a bad idea.”

“And yet _here you are_ ,” Charlie retaliated.

“Sorry,” said Sam. “We’ll leave you guys alone.”

The door closed and Dean looked back to Cas. “They’re like _children_ ,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Cas laughed. “Yes, I suppose they are behaving a bit like children.”

Dean nodded, his eyes darting back and forth thoughtfully. “You know – and I know this is completely unreasonable,” he stumbled, “knowing that they _know_ … it’s damn weird.”

“You mean them knowing about your sexual preference?”

“Yes,” Dean sighed. “Yeah, Cas, that’s what I mean.”

Cas’ brow furrowed. “I thought that asking them to come here would increase your comfort level, but, in hindsight, I can understand how their presence could do just the opposite.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dean continued, “I’m glad they know. Hell, I’m glad they’re here. But I don’t think I’m _comfortable_ with them knowing yet.” He brought his hand into a sort of forward circular motion in front of his stomach as he searched for the best way to verbalize how he was feeling. “It’s kind of like, being exposed – like I’m the elephant in the room – in every room… even when I’m not in the room.” He laughed at the ground. “Damn, I’m not explaining this well, am I.”

Cas hesitated. “Dean, I want you to know that I didn’t tell them. I just asked them to come, and I suppose….”

“They’re smart people, Cas. I know.” He smiled genuinely. “I don’t blame you. And… like I said, I think, when it comes down to it… I’m glad they know.” Dean paused before changing the topic. “So, uh… this is you, huh?” He gestured his hands generally to the world around him.

Cas furrowed his brow and tilted his head.

“I mean… you built all this,” Dean clarified after seeing the angel’s confusion.

Cas nodded in understanding. “Well, most of it was Jack, but some of it was my work, yes.” He blushed slightly, causing Dean to smile wide. Cas coughed humbly, “For instance, I designed the –”

“Sky?” Dean guessed.

“The mountain range,” Cas finished. A small smile formed on his face. “What made you think the sky was my work?”

Dean’s throat fell into his stomach and he felt his face burning as he looked into the angel’s eyes and then averted his gaze. “Oh, well,” Dean coughed. “You know, I just thought.”

“Go on,” Cas urged, the sides of his mouth curving up further.

Dean looked to the ground uncomfortably as his hand dragged itself up the back of his head. “Well, just –” his voice cut out again as he felt his face grow even warmer. “You know, the coloring,” his pointer finger made a circle at the sky before falling back to his side. “It’s sort of like –” he coughed “– youreyesorwhatever”

“What was that last part?” Castiel beamed.

“Your eyes, _okay_?” Dean admitted. “Same kinda… you know, blue color.”

Cas smiled, his head nodding slightly as if to take that in. Then he looked up again. “Can I show you something?”

“Yeah, Cas, of course,” Dean shrugged.

Cas touched Dean’s arm, and, suddenly, the gravel below them had turned to a small, grass clearing, and when Dean looked out, it was like he could see all of Heaven. The world stretched out in every direction; there were so many mountains, with emerald and ivy and mossy greens alike cascading down across stone.

Before Dean had an opportunity to comment, Cas explained, “This is my favorite place in Heaven. Virtually inaccessible to most people, being located at the very top of the tallest mountain, but I find myself coming here all the time when I’m in my corporeal form.”

Dean gazed off the side of the stone platform, taking in everything his angel had created. “It’s beautiful, Cas,” he mused. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to turn around. When he obliged, an audible gasp escaped his lungs, his awe painting itself across his features.

Before him sat a beautifully intricate hedge sculpture – the perfect likeness of the impala. And leaning against her side, beer in hand stood a hedge sculpture of a man that was unmistakably Dean Winchester. Next to that man stood a slightly taller sculpture with Sammy’s long hair and unmistakably caring demeanor; the two figures gazed together into the sky. On the other side of the car stood two more sculptures – one was Cas, looking just as thoughtful as the real Cas always did, and, on his left, Jack, pointing up at – a bird? some stars? – with innocence and excitement carved into his face. Dean’s eyes began to sting once again – a sensation he’d been experiencing far too much the past couple of days. “Cas, I –” he began, struggling to find words.

“Cas, it’s amazing.” Then, more broadly, “All of it. The rocks, the shapes…” Dean turned to face the angel. “I mean just look at all the –”

“Green,” Cas finished.

Dean smiled softly. “Green.”

A moment passed between them where, like so many times before, they simply stared into one another.

Suddenly, Dean’s brow furrowed. “Wait, Cas, how did you get us here? Did the kid get you your wings back?”

Cas smiled thoughtfully before responding. Then, after a beat, he simply shrugged, “I suppose you could say that.”

Dean waited for more of an explanation, but quickly realized that he was going to have to specifically request one. “What do you mean?” he urged.

“Well… I don’t have a physical form anymore,” Cas continued. “I’m not even a cosmic wavelength in the way I used to be. I’m more of… a consciousness. I’m no longer limited to any particular state of being. It’s difficult to explain.”

“A consciousness, huh?” Dean chuckled, something breaking behind his eyes as he looked to the ground. “So I guess you’re uh, too busy manning the golden gates or whatever to uh…” he muttered, eyes flickering, “to stick around.”

Cas stepped closer to the hunter. “Yes, for a long time, that was my excuse not to face you,” he began, and Dean deflated. Then the angel reached out, cupping Dean’s cheek in his hand. “But, in reality, an excuse was all that that ever was.”

Dean’s posture straightened. “What are you saying, Cas?”

“Dean,” he smiled, “me and Jack are long since finished rebuilding Heaven. My work is finished.”

Dean studied the angel’s eyes, his heart rate gaining momentum. “And the kid… he’s okay with that?”

“Dean, he sent me.”

“What?”

Cas breathed. “Last night, he heard you talking to your brother and he told me that I’d waited far too long to see you. He informed me that my hiding was not out of duty but out of fear.”

“Kid called you out,” breathed Dean, smiling out of the side of his mouth.

Cas laughed. “You would have been proud, Dean. He was quite assertive.”

A chuckled escaped Dean’s lungs as he wrapped his arms around Cas. “So, are you saying…”

“I’m saying that I think it’s time that I rest.” Then, blushing, “I’m saying that I would like to stay. If that’s alright.”

Dean pulled Cas close, holding him tightly and tucking his chin over the other man’s shoulder. Then, taking a deep breath and allowing himself to relax into Castiel’s arms, he closed his eyes so that he could better remember the feeling of this moment. “Yeah. I think that’d be alright.”


End file.
